


Scrub Me Clean of Every Burden

by DizzyDior12



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, But not... because Loki's a lady, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Genderbending, Genderbent!Loki, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Lady Loki, Love, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Praise Kink, Safety, Slash, fem!Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDior12/pseuds/DizzyDior12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little baby drabble between Thor and Lady Loki after she's brought back to Asgard; a small puff of candy floss with a painful, razor-blade center. ^_^ Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This scene is set in a universe where Odin is dying and Thor is slowly taking over his duties as king; he's not officially king yet, nor is he bogged down by all the responsibility a king has. He's in a comfortable sort of pocket between prince and king where he has enough power to decree that Loki stay with him at all times, as a kind of punishment/rehabilitation, but doesn't have to run off and neglect him to care for the well-being of Asgard. Their relationship can still come first, and Thor wants it to.

Loki bathed everyday. She felt safe in the bath. It was warm and wet and most of all located behind a lockable door. After three days in a row of an hours-long bath every night Thor grew suspicious, but he never interrupted her. So the enormous, gold enamel, claw foot tub had become her haven and sanctuary. The second morning she spent in the palace she ordered one of the servants to bring her lavender, honeysuckle, and sandalwood scented oils, plus a soap meant for exfoliating. If she was going to be trapped here, she may as well take advantage of the amenities. Tonight, her forth bath, she stood in front of the oaken rack that held all of her scents and soaps. She had been hankering all day for the musky, rich smell of the sandalwood and was just about to reach for it when a bottle of rosewater chamomile caught her eye. The breath hitched painfully in her throat as she took the large glass container in her hand and began pouring it into the clear, sweet water of her bath.

Hours later when she emerged, she found Thor waiting for her at the edge of his bed. Something in his eyes was soft and vulnerable and was looking deeply to her. Self-consciously, she pulled the silken lapels of her robe a little closer across her breasts.

“What is it?” she asked. Thor blinked, looking at once both sad and wistful.

“That scent,” his voice was hoarse, “We used to use it when-.”

Loki swallowed. That’s right. She’d forgotten the times when, after Thor would come to her in the night, she would douse him in her scent, the gentle scent of roses and chamomile, and scrub them both clean of every burden, every thought, every care they had in those fragile days of youth, until there was nothing but their soft skin and softer touches, and the melding of stormy blue into green.

She gasped and startled as she realized Thor was watching her, waiting while she remembered and drifted, allowing her to go back to those nights, soak in them, to remember how they were, how _he_ was. When she looked up the blue of his eyes was an ocean, as immovable as the ocean, always there waiting for her.

When she could stand it no longer, she looked away and cleared her throat, breaking the moment as one breaks a delicate bubble of soap. Hastily she made her way to the left side of the bed and sat on the turned down covers. As she turned away from him and let the slippery fabric of her robe slide off of her shoulders, she could feel his posture droop, and knew he thought the situation hopeless, himself defeated. It wasn’t hopeless, she wanted to scream. She wanted him near her always, and keeping that a secret was becoming a heavier burden than she could bear. So, as she felt the mattress dip and release when Thor rose to see to his own toilette, she made a decision.

“Perhaps,” she tried, but her voice came out as barely a whisper. She spoke again, clearing her throat, “Perhaps-“

Thor froze. She glanced at him from over her shoulder, still covering her naked chest with her arms.

“Perhaps you would consider coming to bed with me tonight, my lord.”

Thor looked for all the world as if he would burst into tears. Loki felt an answering ache in the spot just beneath her breast bone, thick and painful. But her would-be husband/brother, to his credit, did not let himself falter, but very smoothly replied, “Yes. Yes, my lady, I would like that very much.”

 

Thor thought his heart would burst at the sight of his sister, her head bobbing up and down in acquiesce, actually _asking him to stay with her_. And at the same time he knew to tread lightly, that this was somehow incredibly important. He sat down gently on the bed and began to remove his boots. Behind him, he heard Loki quietly getting under the covers. It was then that he remembered that she was naked, had just come from bathing. And also that he was sweaty and dirty and had just come from training. What did she want from him just now? Should he remove his clothing as well? He knew he wanted to… but Loki was showing the first real vulnerability he’d seen since before she fell into the abyss. He would rather sleep beside her in a suit of armor than push his boundaries and send her back to the hard, impenetrable shell which she so loved to inhabit.

In the end he just removed his outer layers of clothing, but left his lightest tunic and trousers on. Loki was facing away from him, had been the whole time, but when he finally finished undressing and made move to get under the covers with her, she said, “Take off your shirt.” Before throwing him an annoyed glance over the shoulder.

“Yes, my lady,” he mumbled, before hastily and with shaking hands, yanking his shirt overhead and tossing it on the floor. He expected her to tense as he climbed in beside her, but she didn’t, just breathed in sharply and focused on the wall in front of her. They lay there in silence for awhile, as the candles slowly burned down to stubs. Thor longed to take his sister in his arms, hush her the way he used to when she had bad dreams, but he didn’t. If this was to escalate further, it would need to be Loki who took the first step. He contented himself with watching the light of the fire play across her inky black hair. The muted light slowly carried him towards sleep.

“Thor.”

His eyes shot open.

“Yes, Loki?”

There was a pause so long that Thor thought maybe Loki hadn’t meant to speak and now was drifting off to sleep. But then came the voice, one he hadn’t heard in centuries, of a side of Loki he had feared lost forever.

“Run your fingers through my hair, brother… like you used to.”

Thor hummed and moved closer, just close enough that he could feel the heat coming off of her body, but not touching, and reached up his right arm to rest his head on it, and at the same time, bury his hand in the thick, raven locks of his sister’s head. Just as when they were children, and Thor would soothe her to sleep this exact same way, Loki relaxed almost immediately, and not five minutes later, melted into the pillows completely and fell to a deep, restful sleep.

Thor’s fingers stilled in her hair as he closed his eyes and released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the warm stillness of their room, “Thank you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I could really use some feedback and constructive criticism on this chapter. I feel like the writing is REALLY rough and doesn't bring across everything I want it to. I keep getting so critical when I try to sit down and write that it comes out all choppy and constipated sounding [or vomit-inducingly fluffy].
> 
> I know it's long, but if you feel like taking the time to indulge me and read it and leaving a comment, I would forever appreciate it. =] 
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> -E.

Thor awoke to absolute stillness. The light of Asgard’s mighty sun poured through all three of his windows with stunning, golden brilliance. Little dust motes floated serenely in the beams and shadows of birds flitted back and forth across his floor as they busied themselves with morning ritual.  
A soft sigh sounded just behind him on the bed and he froze. Loki. Some small part of him was incredibly afraid of what he would find when he turned over. Last night, Loki had been so lovely, so soft with him. As she dropped off to sleep under his careful hands, fingers carding through her hair, she’d sighed and yawned and, in the end reached out a small fist and laid it so that her hand was just resting against the soft skin of his chest. Thor had had to close his eyes against the aching, sweet picture she made, nestled in his bed, finding comfort in his presence. Taking comfort from his touch.  
But what would happen now? The light of morning had a way of remembering you to yourself. The things that seemed so right and beautiful at night often became frightening and raw in the wee hours of day. Would Loki regret the vulnerability that she had shown him? Would she fall into the familiar territory of verbal lashing she relied on to keep him at a distance?  
Please… he thought. And was just about to turn over and face her when he felt it; that small hand, those delicate, magician’s fingers, sliding lightly down his spine. He tried not to stiffen, tried not to react at all as she lingered at the base of his back, between the little dips on either side of his vertebrae, and then her touch grew more purposeful. He held his breath as he felt her shuffle a bit closer to him on the expansive mattress, feeling the heat between their bodies grow. What was she doing? Did she think him still asleep?  
Thor remained stock still as that feather-touch of fingertips traveled down even further and then over and up the side of his body. Trailing over skin, over scars from the waist of his pants to the dip below his ribs where his body crooked in sleep, up his ribs and into the crease of his arm, and then across his back to travel down his other side. Thor reveled in his sister’s touch. He hadn’t thought much about how much he had missed quiet moments like this with Loki when she was gone. He was so caught up in getting her back, seeing her safely home… But now that it was happening, he realized that he’d been verily starving for her quieter attentions, a gentle interlude with this Loki, this gentle, soft woman who knew him so intimately.  
The universe knew Loki as one of two things: brittle and breakable, a tenuous creature who crumbled at the slightest ridicule. Or an immense, powerful storm of a woman who destroyed worlds with one swipe of her hand. Thor was the only one, that he knew of, who knew the version of his sister that would stay by him as he cooked them breakfast, watched him spar, occasionally throwing a dart or two of magic into the ring to keep him alert, and just sat with him on quiet evenings, wrapped in his arms, her face buried in his neck, nodding off with the thrum of his heartbeat against her lips. He could never be sure which of these three versions of Loki was the real one, or maybe they all were, but this is the one that he missed most. This is the one that he’d fallen in love with.  
He remained where he was as she explored his golden skin, reacquainting herself with him. When she took her hand off and rolled away from him with a yawn, he yawned and stretched, too, hoping his rouse would be believable.  
When he opened his eyes, she saw that his movement had startled her slightly. But the surprise faded quickly as he smiled warmly into her eyes over their sea of bed sheets and pillows.  
“Good morning, love,” he said softly. Green eyes gave him the briefest glimpse of pleasure at the nickname, but Loki covered it up quickly and returned her face to a polite, blank expression. Thor wasn’t dissuade; she wasn’t scrambling away from him in revulsion; that was a start.  
“Good morning, brother,” she replied modestly. He smiled again.  
“Is there anything you need, my lady?” he questioned, wanting her to be as content in this moment as he was. “Breakfast? Tea? May I help you dress?”  
Loki snorted.  
“Help me dress, Thor? Are you my keeper now? We have servants for that.”  
Thor smiled and shrugged one shoulder up and down.  
“I know, but I thought perhaps today we could keep entirely to ourselves. Have breakfast brought up, dress ourselves, or one another,” Loki smirked at that, “And spend the day exploring the palace or wandering the gardens. Anything you want.”  
Loki appeared to think it over, mulling as she rolled onto her back and threw an arm over her head. Thor tried not to stare at the inches of flesh the action exposed, or the graceful curve of her neck as she tilted her head and twisted a lock of raven hair. After a moment she flopped back over to face him.  
“Fine,” she said, “On one condition.”  
“Name it, my lady.”  
“You must let me shield us with magic so that we may move through the palace undetected.”  
Thor felt his stomach drop. His smile wavered at the look of playful mischief on his sister’s face. There was no trace of malice or ill-intent in it, but just the same, Thor knew that it could not be.  
“Loki…” he began, looking back into viridian irises, bright with play, “I cannot… The All-Father has decreed…”  
He didn’t even need to finish. Loki’s face fell at the first word. Her return to Asgard had been conditional on her being stripped of her magic, at least for the time being, until they could assess her true mental state and establish whether or not she could ever be trusted with such power again. Thor had felt hallow and guilty agreeing to such a condition; to strip his sister of her magic was like taking away half of her person, like removing one of her limbs. But he knew there was no other way, not until she recovered and they began to heal all the rifts that Odin’s deception had caused for their family.  
Now he watched her throat work as she swallowed and then spoke, voice hoarse.  
“I know.” She said. “I just thought… Never mind.” She turned away and flung the covers off. Thor glanced away as she wrapped herself in the silk robe, wincing inwardly as she tied the belt with rough, angry motions. He watched in silence as she padded across their room to the bathroom, her safe haven.

The wet gurgling sound of the golden chalice filling soothed Loki as she dunked it under the water of her bath and poured it luxuriously over her scalp. The other hand scrubbed gently through her hair as the water flowed down her back. The bitter taste of rejection hadn’t quite left her mouth after Thor’s rebuff. It had been stupid of her to ask to use magic. She’d known about the decree, knew that her family’s trust had been shattered long ago and there was no way they would allow her such freedom now. But laying there with Thor had felt so familiar and safe, so like they were comrades again, that she had forgotten herself. And the fact that she had been denied, by Thor no less, was deeply humiliating. For all the power she had in the All Father’s house now, she might as well have been a guest or a servant.  
She sighed, dragging a rough loofah over one arm, then the other. She understood, on some level, why Thor stood by the Odin’s condition. He’d wanted her back, and she had hurt him, hurt everyone with magic, time and time in the past. She wouldn’t trust herself if she were in their position either. That didn’t lessen the sting, though.  
She dropped the loofah into the soapy water and leaned her head back against the end of the bath tub. The great oaken door of the bathing chamber seemed to loom at her. The knowledge that Thor sat on the other side, busying himself with she knew not what until she emerged, gave the barrier an oppressive heaviness.  
In her time with the Chitauri [what little she could recall of it], and her time on Earth, she had missed him just as much as he’d seemed to miss her. And now that they were together again there were moments where there was nothing she wanted more than to interrupt his reading or his eating or his diplomatic paperwork to curl up in his lap, like she had so many other times. She fit so well there, her arms around his neck, trailing up and down his back, running through the soft strands of his hair… At least she used to.  
She didn’t know if it could ever be the same after everything that had happened between them. Everything she’d done to him. But being without him was for her like being without water. It hurt. It was deprivation and starvation and dying of thirst and she hated it. Hated that she needed him so much.  
When they’d been apart it had been easier. She’d had more pressing matters to occupy her time. Distractions. But as soon as she’d laid eyes on him in Midgard, all burning fury and rage on the ramp of that mortal flying contraption they’d put her in after her initial capture, she’d known it was over. Even as he’d ripped her so violently from her seat, she’d reveled in his touch. Even as they shouted at one another on that mountain top and he appealed with her to come home, she’d stared at his face, lined now with age and worry, still so beautiful, and fallen so deeply, so finally back in love with him, that she knew fighting it had become utterly futile. It was over. She’d fight, she’d continue the façade of evading capture and fight him all the way, but right then, in that barren, rocky place with Odin’s ravens eavesdropping, she’d known that wherever Thor went in this universe, she would follow.  
Now that she was back in Asgard, things felt infinitely more complicated. Something inside of her refused to allow his closeness. At the same time her emotional response to him frightened her with its power. She sometimes felt that any desire she had to get away from him had died a long time ago and now she was just going through the motions because they were comfortable. That was the catch, though, wasn’t it. It wasn’t comfortable to push him away anymore. It was agony and she didn’t know how long she could keep it up. It would be so easy to fall into old habits, let him be close to her, take him into her heart again, into her bed again...  
Loki felt a wave of heat travel up her belly at the thought. When she was honest with herself, she knew that she still craved him in that way. In every way, really. She craved him as her brother, as her friend, as her guardian and sweetheart. But sleeping next to him every night as he sprawled and rolled, brushing up against her without realizing it, bombarding her with the heat of his body, reminded her just how much she missed him in that way as well. In those moments she remembered so vividly the weight of his body on top of hers, the torturous friction of his length moving in and out of her, slow, fast, pleasure blinding in its intensity as she clawed at his belly and at his arms and back, mewling and writhing until they came apart together... She remembered the groans and screams bursting from his throat as he arched, spilling inside her over and over, bringing her to completion with the drag of his pelvis against her clit and his teeth against her throat… She remembered the hot, sticky dew that formed between their faces as they breathed together, his eyes burning cerulean and consuming her as she sat in his lap, legs spread as wide as they could go so she could feel him in her deepest depths as she rode him, bearing her teeth as she pulled his hair and bit his lips until he became furious and rolled them off the bed so he could carry her across the room fuck her against a wall…  
Loki jumped in the bathtub as a soft knock sounded at the door. She scowled at it, blushing to the tips of her ears at being caught thinking such things.  
“Loki?” Thor’s muffled voice sounded through the wood when she didn’t answer right away and Loki rolled her eyes, pulling the plug from the bath’s drain and standing in the now lukewarm water.  
“What is it, Thor?” she asked dully. In the pause that followed she could almost see Thor’s shoulders hunch in hesitation.  
“Nothing I- I just wanted to let you know that our breakfast has arrived.”  
Loki smirked.  
“I’ll be right out,” she called. And stepped onto the plush mat next to the bathtub. She stalked over to the grand mirror opposite the tub and squeaked her hand across it to clear the mist. She blinked in surprise as she beheld her reflection. She looked… well. Much more so than she had in several months anyway. The black of her hair glistened, not only with moisture from the water but with strength and growing health. Instead of looking sweaty and sallow upon coming from the bath as she usually did, her cheeks were rosy and her lips red.  
Some strange impulse in her arose at the sight of herself to fling the door open to Thor and make him look at her and praise her for getting well. But that was foolish. Something a child would do. Instead she considered the urge for a moment longer, worrying her lips and, no doubt, taking away some of the health and color from her complexion. And then she dismissed the notion. No doubt Thor would think her even sillier than he did now if she went to him seeking praise for something she had no control over.  
Feeling resigned, she turned her thoughts to the breakfast she was to share with him in a moment. No doubt it would be awkward and filled with Thor’s oppressively hopeful gaze on her every moment she looked away. A tension crept in between her shoulder blades at the thought. But then she remembered him last night, how softly he touched her. Indeed, he hadn’t been needlessly rough with her at all since her attempts to lay siege to Earth had been stopped…  
Abruptly, Loki snatched the silk viridian robe that hung on a jeweled hook in the wall and tied it around herself, then she slumped down onto a cushion near the sink, feeling suddenly exhausted. She rubbed at the dull ache burrowing between her brows and sighed. Why did he insist on keeping her this way? Would it not have been easier to just send her to the dungeons like any other war criminal? Why did he delude himself with ideas of her reform?  
If she listened closely she could hear him out there. Years of living in this palace, always so anxious, listening for footsteps and raised voices, had given her senses an acuteness that even war could not have bested. She could hear him creaking the mattress with his weight, shifting to reach for something on the nightstand, laying down to examine it, then rising to pull the chair out from under the desk and take a seat. Apparently he was restless. She knew it was she he was waiting on, and she was getting a bit peckish sitting here sweating in this hot room. But she needed a moment to steel herself. She knew that if she didn’t take care, the sight of his face and eyes, all filled with frank openness and waiting only on her pleasure, would cause a fall so easy and effortless and enormous that it would make her plunge from the Bifrost seem miniscule by comparison.

“Loki,” something in Thor’s eyes glowed as she emerged in a cloud of fog from the bathroom, “You look well, sister.”  
Loki stumbled a little as she slid her feet into a pair of slippers, but caught herself before Thor could notice. He was sitting at the little table he’d had brought up on the first night of her return to Asgard, so that they could take their meals in private when they wished. A small feast lay before him and Loki felt her mouth water. Fat grapes, thin cuts of meat, white and brown slices of bread, and a ridiculously vast assortment of cheese; if there was one thing that Loki had missed while being on Earth, it was Asgardian food. She sat down and began to fill a plate as Thor watched, still looking at her in that strangely warm way.  
“It is good to see you take your fill, Loki,” he said warmly. Loki’s hand stopped in midair where it was bringing in a hunk of gouda from the serving tray. An annoyed prickle shivered up her spine. She couldn’t tell if it was from being watched so closely by her brother or by the fact that every praise he gave her just felt like building pressure. Even when it came to trivial matters like how much she ate or whether or not she dressed that day, when he encouraged her, it felt like expectation. And she couldn’t take any more expectations from him. From them. She had disappointed them all too much already.  
Her appetite was gone. She dropped the cheese onto her plate and slumped back into her chair, staring listlessly at her plate, which would now go to waste. Thor frowned at her.  
“Will you not eat now?” he asked. The tone of his voice lingered just enough on the edge of anger that Loki’s back went up. She said nothing but crossed her arms and shrunk back into the depth of the chair.  
Thor’s expressions turned thunderous.  
“Do you do this to spite me, Loki? Will you stop doing anything I praise you for from now on? If that is the case perhaps I should begin praising your sulkiness or your foul mood or the fact that you haven’t eaten since YESTERDAY MORNING.”  
Loki felt the familiar fear sink into her belly at the volume Thor’s voice was approaching and, as was her natural response to hide it, met him with a ferocious gaze of her own.  
“I will eat, Thor, when and if I choose. You cannot make me. It’s not my fault that your tediously watchful eye drives away my appetite.”  
Thor took a moment to blink at her in surprise.  
“Well,” said he, “I don’t mean to… I only wanted you to know that you were doing well. I didn’t mean to put your nerves on edge.”  
Loki settled a little after that, since he seemed sincere, but still couldn’t bring herself to eat. Instead she watched him take his fill and, when he was done, went to recline on the cushions by the bed and finish reading her book.

“Loki,” Thor’s deep voice reached across the room from where he sat on the bed to where she was snuggled into the soft furs on the floor. When she looked up, he beckoned for her to come and sit with him. She took a parting glance at her book, memorizing the page number, and then moved to oblige him, coming within three feet of the bed before stopping short. Next to Thor, tucked into a nest of blankets so that it wouldn’t get jostled, was Loki’s breakfast plate from earlier. Immediately her defenses flew up.  
“Thor-“ she began. But Thor only shushed her and motioned for her to lie with him. As she began doing so, he moved so that he was draped across the bed on his side, the plate of food by his shoulders, and he made a space for her right next to him. She started to mirror his pose, landing on her left side where he lay on his right, but then, with gentle touches and a murmured, “Lie flat, sister”, she found herself on her back, staring up at the ceiling and at Thor’s prickly face inches away from hers.  
“What is this,” she demanded, “What do you think you’re doing, brother.”  
“Shhh,” Thor replied, “I understand that there are many pressures on you just now, Loki. It would steal anyone’s strength and appetite.”  
Loki huffed and rolled her eyes. But Thor continued.  
“If you cannot eat, sister, I will feed you.”  
Loki stared. She would have laughed if Thor’s face hadn’t been so open and earnest. He was actually serious. He meant to feed her.  
“Now relax.” Thor whispered, “Close your eyes.”  
Loki took a moment to glare at her brother, but then did as he asked (she’d never be left in peace otherwise) and slid her eyes shut. She opened her mouth, expecting to feel a morsel of food against her lips, but instead what she felt was the slow trailing of fingers up the bodice of her dress. She looked up at him in surprise and Thor almost laughed.  
“I told you to relax,” was all he said, and continued to trace patterns on her belly, her chest, her forehead, until Loki thought she might drift off to sleep. When the grape pressed against her lips, she took it, chewed, and swallowed without even thinking. And then three more. It wasn’t until the spicy odor of a piece of cinnamon bread wafted into her nose that her eyes shot open. She was about to shoot up out of bed and berate Thor for tricking her thus when-  
“Shhhh,” Thor’s lips murmured against her ear. The sweet warmth of his breath washed over her skin, calming her and making her more tense at the same time, “It is alright, sister. You are safe.”  
Loki lie back again, trying to relax but feeling slightly off kilter by the whole thing. She wasn’t used to such softness from Thor. It was always swords and smoke and Mjolnir. Immediately Thor set aside the cinnamon bread and went back to stroking her skin and bodice, smoothing out the worry lines in her forehead, tickling the softness of her belly, until she felt more secure. She closed her eyes, but felt it when he reached above her head, this time returning with a fig, sticky and sweet. It rested against her lips in Thor’s long, calloused fingers.  
“Open,” he said. And she did, allowing the small piece of fruit to pass through her lips without protest, and shivering when her lips and tongue brushed against his fingertips.  
“Good.” He said. She could feel his deep voice rumbling through her on the mattress, “that’s good, sister. Now try the bread.”  
Loki wanted to keep her eyes closed, the situation was just too humiliating. But she had to know, was he mocking her? Was this sport for him? She gazed up as her lips opened further to accommodate the next bite. Thor was intent on his task. No evidence of malice or even mirth could be found in his face as he brought his fingers slowly, methodically from the plate to her mouth. Every time she accepted another piece of bread he would nod a little, murmuring soft praise in her ear (“Good, Loki. That’s my good girl.”) until some little barrier inside of her broke away.  
She didn’t realized she was crying until Thor stopped feeding her and pulled away to find a napkin. Then he sat wiping salty tears off of her cheeks and dabbing them away from her eyelashes, still murmuring softly, shushing her, and then finally, gathering her into his arms so that she could bury her face in his throat like they both knew she needed to.


End file.
